Humiliated, Angry, Ashamed, Brown.

I really wanted to take some pictures of my nephew
riding his motorcycle for my motion assignment— maybe one of him
making a jump with his dirt bike— but he couldn’t make a
break in his soccer schedule to help me out with the shoot. I also thought
about photographing a remote control plane or helicopter, which would’ve
been really cool, but I don’t know anyone with a remote control
anything, so that was out. I’d taken pictures of passing traffic
after accidentally locking my keys in my car, but I knew that the whole
moving car thing had been played out. It was Wednesday, May 26th, 2004.
My motion assignment was due when my evening photography class convened,
and I found myself quickly running out of both ideas and time.

Realizing that I’d have to settle and just go
for the grade, I considered things that were less exciting, but more
familiar and accessible. I finally decided to take photos of boats over
at the Ballard Locks. Who knows, maybe I’d get lucky and even get
a passing train into my composition.

I suppose a little background would
help. The
Hiram M. Chittenden Locks are a bit of a sore subject with me.
I’d been
over at the Locks earlier in the quarter, back at the beginning of April,
taking photos of the picturesque landscape surrounding this prominent
local landmark. I’d even left my subject and returned with more
film just to try to get the right shot. Being new to photography, I made
careful notes of my camera’s settings.

Within a half an hour of my returning home I found
myself confronted by two uniformed Seattle Police officers, both of which
had their hands casually resting on their sidearms. (This is definitely
not something you want to see at the door of your home.) I was sincerely
surprised and alarmed to learn they were looking for me!

They asked if I was taking photos of the train bridge,
and I couldn’t help but laugh. I quickly pulled my notebook from
my back pocket and explained that I was a new photography student over
at Shoreline Community College, and showed them all of my notes — a
list of exposures, subjects, f-stops, and shutter speeds. I think I talked
to them for about five minutes, setting things straight and giving them
all of the background information I could. They clarified that I hadn’t
done anything wrong. I thought we were done.

“Can I see some ID?” one of the cops
asked. I was really confused by this request. I’d already provided
all the information I’d felt I’d needed to. If I hadn’t
done anything wrong then why did they need to see my ID?

I don’t know about you, but I’m not exactly
comfortable with policemen detaining me, let alone running background
checks on me. To my understanding, even though this kind of stuff isn’t
admissible in court, I recognized that each background check is added
to some undisclosed police file, and that any officer checking that file
would have to interpret it. I really wanted to know at what point I had
the right to say “no.”

“Well, you don’t have
to cooperate,” the
cop responded, exaggerating his tone. Yeah, I got his message. Have you
ever tried not cooperating
with a cop? I gave him my ID, and then sat through another ten minutes
of awkward and demeaning
questions. I was hoping my neighbors wouldn’t assume that I was
a drug dealer. Aggravated and embarrassed, I retaliated by snapping off
a few shaky photos of the strategic placement of their police
cars when
they finally let me go. (I've developed an odd sense of humor. It kicks
in when I'm nervous.)

This episode kept coming back to me over the following
days. I was angry, but more honestly, I felt embarrassed and powerless.
I felt violated. For what it was worth, I eventually contacted the Seattle
Police Department and obtained an official copy of the police
report.